Lake Town festivities
by gillybean83
Summary: A one shot, meant to be added to my on-going story A Bitterness Within but have struggled of late. This is an idea that has been floating around and just wouldn't go. Reviews appreciated, I am not great at writing I know and my subject knowledge is ropy but I hope you like it.


'Welcome! Welcome! The king under the mountain!' The mayor of Lake Town bellowed waving a hand to usher the dwarves and wizard into the large ball room.

Thorin bowed his head as the music began, his eyes surveying the room, barely noticing whose hands he was shaking. His company by his side, vulnerable without sword or bow.

"King Thorin a pleasure to meet you, long have we waiting for your return." An old man said enthusiastically.

Thorin bowed, stopping, raising his head slowly staring off towards the doorway. Everyone in the room seemed to vanish. The door opened slowly, a pale hand visible at first, the soft, gentle hand he had felt touch his rough weathered cheek. Emerging like an angel through the doorway, her soft features, shy and nervous. A long sleek dress of what looked like pale cream silk clung to her slender body, highlighting her shape; her red hair not bunched like he had known but flowing freely, ringlets framing her flawless face. He swallowed hard, he had thought she looked perfection in her riding trousers and cloak but, never had he dreamed of such beauty, such immeasurable beauty.

Staring at the door, Lana took a deep breath, running her hands down the long gown she had found left on her bed. It had been many moons since she had worn such clothing, the stares she had received from within the Inn doing nothing for her confidence. She twisted the door handle, slowly opening the door, hoping to slip in without anyone noticing. Soothing music met her ears as she entered the room a buzz with chatter. Folding her arms slightly she looked around the room desperate not to make eye contact, not wishing to speak with anyone.

"A toast! To our King under the mountain!" The room went silent as the master spoke. Lana's gaze moved to Thorin, his firm, solid expression fixed on her. His eyes, those closed off windows inside him, inside his mind. The eyes she had become lost in, the eyes she had looked into so intimately in the cave as they lay, fingers entwined. Their gaze broken by the master standing in front of him, Thorin moved to the side instinctively, but she was gone.

"We have a present for you and your men, will you all follow me." The master announced steering the company to the front of the crowd.

"We have selected for your entertainment, the finest ladies of Lake Town! I have tried most of them out myself and I have to say no expense has been spared if you know what I mean." The master winked at Thorin, who returned his wink with a glare.

The master had plans, ones she had heard the other women discussing, plans that involved dancing and women of a certain type. Lana couldn't bare it; bare the thought of seeing him even looking at another woman made her stomach churn. It had been a mistake coming and she knew it, she walked over to the back of the room, the walls lined with art work, fascinating pictures of what Erebor had been before. A hand touched the small of her back causing her to jump, bumping into someone solid. A mouth lowered to her ear.

"You look beautiful, dance with me." A familiar voice said. She turned the concern on her face evident.

"Bard you'll be killed if they catch you." She whispered, leaning towards the bowman, his face concealed by his hood.

"I could not stay away; one dance is all I ask." He placed one hand on her waist, his eyes taking her in before moving closer. He took her other hand in his and they began to dance.

Thorin dismissed the last of the half-naked offerings the master had brought, disgusted by the very thought. His only interest, seeking out where Lana had gone. He stood, his eyes scanning the crowds around the room, a flash of red catching his keen eye. She was dancing, no floating almost. But who? Thorin moved into the crowd, making his way through the spinning ladies and their eager partners. He stopped, still. That hood, those hands. He had known it, the way the filthy dog had looked at her – his blood boiled.

'One word' he thought, 'one word to the master.'


End file.
